


Crown of Rue

by louise_lux



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Hannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, Lecter Castle, M/M, Post Fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/pseuds/louise_lux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year has passed since the fight on the cliff. They are in Europe, living a charmed life, but it's not what Will wants. They have an anniversary dinner of sorts, and Will asks Hannibal to return to Lithuania with him.  Hannibal agrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Paris, 1 year on**

Will let himself into their apartment and closed the door quietly behind him. Hannibal was playing something eerily beautiful. Will shrugged off his coat and hung it up, then leaned against the wall, unwilling to interrupt. The melody was simple and ancient, as if first sung in the cold stone cradle of a church.

Meat was cooking. Its rich warm scent had wound through their apartment, and it smelled delicious. It smelled like a roasting bird. Will would ascertain, later, if it indeed was a bird. So far, it always has been. Duck, pork, lamb, veal, melt-in-the-mouth beef.

The music stopped. “Will?” Hannibal called, his voice almost plaintive after the heart-strumming notes of the piano.

He closed his eyes for a second, his heart stirring with a rush of emotion that he still couldn’t deal with naming. “I didn’t want you to stop,” Will said, going through into their living room.

It was large, like the rest of the place. Hannibal preferred cavernous spaces that he could fill with unlikely furniture. The latest was a terrible malachite sideboard that squatted behind the long elegant sofa. 

Hannibal sat at the far end of the room, lit by the fading winter sun that came in through the three tall windows. Soft light gleamed off polished wood and the crystal chandelier, the silver picture frames. Flames crackled in the marble fireplace. With the warm red Persian rug, the polished boards, the effect was one of warmth and luxury. Hannibal, the light glowing on him too, was of a piece with it all.

The dining table was laid for two.

Will increasingly longed for four small walls and an open sky. Hannibal fitted in this room. Will didn’t, however many suits Hannibal lavished on him, however finely groomed Hannibal encouraged him to be. Trips to the barber every week for hair, beard and nails.

But he did fit with Hannibal so he went where Hannibal went. Anything else was unthinkable. This was their fourth home in the twelve months since their death. Hannibal had an excess of caution, now. It was exhausting, and lately Will had begun to long for a home. Somewhere they could live.

“What were you playing?” Will said, drawn by Hannibal’s warm smile. His hair was a little dishevelled and his collar was open. He must have been playing all afternoon. A tea tray stood abandoned on the coffee table. A half-drunk pot of darjeeling and a single remaining almond cookie. They were wafer thin and very crisp. Hannibal made them himself.

“The woman who wrote it was known as the Sibyl of the Rhine. She wrote it on her deathbed,” Hannibal said.

“It’s always good to have a productive deathbed.”

“We should all be productive,” Hannibal said. “If we can.” His gaze dropped to the brown paper bag that Will was carrying. “Have you been shopping?”

It was indeed how he’d spent his day. He’d caught the metro to the Place Lépine, where the flower market was held. Today it had been held under heavy grey skies, and the sellers had been swaddled in scarves and hats. It had taken him a long while to find what he needed. He put the bag down on the coffee table.

“Don’t peek.” Hannibal watched him approach, and when Will bent down to kiss him, he closed his eyes, waiting, chin tilted up. Will paused for a moment just to look. He cupped Hannibal’s jaw gently. “I got you something special.”

“I can recognise the scent. Will, I… ”

Will kissed him, not letting him finish. “Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

*

“It’s delicious. What’s the meat?” Will asked.

Hannibal’s smile was more than a little amused. “You always ask. Constantly worried I’ll serve up breast of man, or leg of woman. Or do you just wish to taste it again?”

Will looked down at his plate, at the beautiful arrangement. As beautifully arranged as their lives. “I don’t,” he said.

“And I won’t serve it to you. We have been over this at length.” Hannibal took a bite of meat, chewing carefully. He sipped wine, watching Will. “It’s grouse, by the way. I wanted to mark the anniversary with something special. Have you ever hunted it?”

“No. I don’t have many opportunities for hunting these days.”

“It is a pity we can’t hunt, I agree.”

The dish was rich and gamey, perfectly cooked. Hannibal had outdone himself tonight. Will put down his knife and fork, appetite fading at the stormhead he felt building in his chest. 

“I want us to move away. Out of the city. Out of this country, even. Somewhere we can… ” He cast around for the right word, and finding it made his heart clench. “Settle down.”

The room seemed to still. Hannibal gazed at him. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A while.” From the first moment, when he’d woken in a French hospital and Hannibal had been slumped asleep in a chair next to him. When he’d realised they had survived.

He took up the box that was sitting on the table at his side and handed it to Hannibal. “This is for you.”

Hannibal was silent for several seconds, watching him. “An anniversary gift,” he said softly, taking it.

“It’s been a year. I wanted to mark it too.”

Hannibal took the box and carefully opened it. He took out the posy of simple pale flowers that he must have known were in there. He looked stricken upon actually seeing them. “I smelled them as soon as you came in the door. A posy of rue.”

“I saw it growing on your sister’s grave.”

“Yes, you were there, once.” Hannibal touched the petals with a fingertip. “They are the flower of my country. Brides wear a crown of rue, traditionally. After the wedding, the crown is burned to symbolise loss of childhood. But I’m sure you are aware of the significance.” He closed his eyes. When he opened them they were too bright, and there was something fragile and scared there. “You wish me to go there. To open up my cellars.”

Will stood and came to his side. He took Hannibal’s hand. “You have to go back. If we’re to have any kind of life together. You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to see you face it. You’ve built a veneer, Hannibal, just like you’ve always done. You can choose all the damn ugly furniture you like, but you can’t build a veneer over me too, or over her.”

Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s hand and stared up at him. His voice was bitter. “Do you imagine a farmhouse in the countryside, an estate surrounded by pines? Dogs? A lake? A rustic idyll?”

“That’s exactly what I imagine. Does it really sound so bad?”

Hannibal took a while to think about that, then shook his head. Will pulled him up into his arms and tugged him close. Hannibal laid his head on Will’s shoulder and wound his arms around his waist. He clung as tightly as a scared child for a moment, before he remembered himself. Will stroked his hair, running his fingers through the soft strands at his nape.

“Do you really think the furniture is ugly?” Hannibal said into his neck.

“Yeah. Most of it.”

Hannibal was silent for a long time as Will held him. The fire crackled, and the faintest scent of woodsmoke mingled with the flowers. The noise of the city ground on, leaking through the thin old glass of the windows.

Hannibal pulled back, finally. He cupped Will’s face in his hands and kissed him, a little raw, an edge of desperation there that was heady. "When shall we leave?“ he said.


	2. Chapter 2

So they packed, once more. Hannibal took his music case and a large trunk. When Will peeked inside, he found it full of clothes. Far more suits than anyone would need for winter in a dank stone castle. He tucked in a few more sweaters for good measure. He took a single leather holdall, mostly books and a few clothes. He wasn't at all sorry to say goodbye to Paris. They flew to Zurich and picked up the sleeper train there. It would take them direct to Vilnius, and, once there, they'd rent a car to get to Lecter Castle.

"You okay?" Will said, once they were on the train. Hannibal had barely spoken and was staring out at the dusk-shadowed farmland. Occasionally his gaze would travel to Will, as if to check he was still there. The fields were empty at this time of year, and the grey dusk skies tinged the whole world with gloominess. It matched Hannibal's apparent mood.

"Travel brings on a certain melancholy," Hannibal said. 

"Depends on the why and where," Will said. "I used to hate it as a kid. It always meant change. Not the good kind."

"Itinerancy as a child can leave one with insecurities that only adult life can cure. A permanent home. Family and friends that will not leave."

Sometimes Hannibal would say the cruelest things, sometimes intended, sometimes not. He didn't intend to be cruel this time, Will was pretty sure, but he had to look away in case something showed on his face. Not that he could actually hide anything from Hannibal. Perhaps Hannibal understood, because he leaned over and took Will's hand. 

"I don't intend to leave you, Will. We will find that home that you want so much."

Will gave his hand a squeeze, moved by Hannibal's earnest expression. 

Hannibal gave him a long look and closed his eyes, leaning back to rest his temple against the edge of the seat. "The last time I travelled by train, I had killed a man. For you. The seat opposite felt so empty. I closed my eyes several times on that journey, hoping that when I reopened them you would be there. As if I could conjure you by will alone."

How had Anthony Dimmond ended up in Hannibal's clutches? How had he offended him? Will wanted to ask, one day. But at least his death had had a use. 

"I'm here now," he said. "Open your eyes." 

Hannibal did so, with all the seriousness of a child on Christmas morning. "Part of me expected you to be gone," he said. 

"Time only goes one way, Hannibal. Forward."

"So you keep saying, but I never truly believe you." 

Will stood. They needed to eat and sleep. Tomorrow would be a difficult day. "Come on. I've made reservations in the dining car."

*

Their cabin was tiny, little more than a cupboard with two bunks and a sink, but it was clean and looked to be newly refitted. They undressed around each other, down to shorts. Hannibal looked at Will, as he always looked, seemingly unable to help himself. Will watched Hannibal brush his teeth at the sink, admiring the sinewy curve of his spine. He reached out and put a hand on Hannibal's hip. 

"Can we fit two in one of these bunks?"

Hannibal rinsed his mouth and turned to him. "I doubt it."

"Let's try?" 

It was a very tight fit, chest to chest and mouth to mouth, but Will didn't mind at all. He slid a knee between Hannibal's thighs as they kissed, pressing against his cock. To his relief, Hannibal was hard. "Okay?" Will said, softly. 

"Very much." Hannibal laid his head on the pillow, glassy brown eyes so close that Will could see the gold flecks in them. "Though I suspect you're only trying to distract me."

"What if I am? I've only got your best interests in mind, Hannibal," he said archly, and it drew the smile he wanted.

Will pressed his thigh a little more firmly between Hannibal's and slid a hand down inside his underwear to touch him. He kissed Hannibal's soft waiting smile and slid his tongue between his lips and rubbed his cock up against Hannibal's stomach, the whole length of it. 

Hannibal gripped his waist tight, smile fading. "Will," he said and he already sounded half gone, on the brink of some precipice. 

"Take these off," Will said, hooking a finger into Hannibal's waistband. Hannibal pushed his shorts down and helped Will off with his own, then pushed Will onto his back and knelt over him. The bunk was barely big enough to hold them and it creaked under their movements. 

"What would you like?" Will said. 

Hannibal took a breath, steering his gaze down and away. He ran his palm along Will's cock, and pressed his own to it, sizing them up, squeezing them together. Will's was longer by a couple of inches, a noticeable difference, and a little thicker too. He'd been told before that it was bigger than average. Hannibal had never mentioned it, but he sure paid attention to it when he got the chance. He curled his fingers around it now and gave Will a hooded heavy look.

"To take you in my mouth. Then inside me." 

Hannibal ran his other hand down over Will's chest, scratching lightly over his skin, running fingertips over his nipples. He stopped at the ridge of scar tissue, fingertips resting on it.

"Take what you want," Will said.

Hannibal's lids fluttered, and bent his head and began to suck him. He couldn't take much of its length but he seemed to lose himself in the act. Will put his hands in Hannibal's hair. It was silky and so soft. It had surprised him the first time he'd touched it.

"You look good," Will said, and that brought a soft faint moan out of him. Compliments always got to him, kept his inner narcissist happy. Will groped for his phone on the miniature bedside table, aware of Hannibal watching him. He grabbed it, aimed it. "Okay?" he said. Hannibal nodded, eyes cloudy, and Will pressed record.

"Do you want to see?" Will said after a minute. He pulled Hannibal up to his chest, and they lay crushed close. 

"Show me," Hannibal said, his voice rough. 

Will pressed play, and watched Hannibal watch himself. Hannibal's pupils blew wider. "See how good you look? Thought you should know." 

Hannibal watched it through three times, and stayed rail hard against Will's thigh. "Will," he began, then stopped. 

"What is it?" 

"It will be difficult to be home again. Stripping away the veneer will reveal the ugliness beneath. It could be very unpleasant for you. Perhaps dangerous." 

"You don't need to slap on a warning label at this point, Hannibal."

"I have tranquillisers in my case, if you should need to administer them…"

"In case you run amok? A little over-dramatic, don't you think?"

"Who knows?" Hannibal said. He settled more closely against Will, sliding his arm around Will's waist. "I have avoided going home for so long. Buried it."

"It'll hurt. The sort of hurt you don't get to just switch off."

"I'm aware. You taught me that."

"And you had your revenge."

"So have you," Hannibal said. "You have me in thrall."

"I exert a tenuous control over you because you can't deal with the idea of losing me." 

"It's not healthy," Hannibal said, tightening his arm.

"But it's real." He tightened his arm around Hannibal. "Better get used to life down here with the rest of the pigs."

Hannibal twisted so that he could meet Will's eyes. "Is that what I am now, a pig?" 

Will rolled him over, pinning him, and thrust down hard. "When you're on all fours and squealing with my dick inside you, yeah." 

For a second, from the pure blankness of Hannibal's expression, Will thought he'd misjudged, but then Hannibal's whole face slackened. "Will," he said, choked. 

Will tightened his grip on Hannibal's wrists. "Do you need it?" he said. His cock lay trapped tight against Hannibal's, thick and bullying. Hannibal nodded. "Ask for it."

Hannibal stared up. Like this, caught unawares between lust and fear, he was lost, pain forgotten as Will had intended, and he had no resistance in him. "Will." His voice was a rough rasp. "I want you inside me. In every way."

Will's fingers tightened on his wrists involuntarily and he had to take a moment to breathe. "Stand up. Face the wall." 

Their quarters were so cramped that it was really their only option. Will dug out the lube. Hannibal pressed his palms to the wall and shivered when Will entered him with a finger, then two, then three. He thrust in with them gently, pressed close to Hannibal's back, listening to his breathing and the wet sounds his fingers made. 

"Don't make me wait," Hannibal said. 

Will pressed close to Hannibal, an incendiary heat rushing through him. "You said that last time, and I hurt you. Don't."

Finally, when he judged it would be okay, and Hannibal was dripping with slick, he took away his fingers and began to push into his body. Hannibal let out a sharp high breath.

"Think you can take it all this time?" Will said.

"Everything," Hannibal said. 

Sweat was forming on his back. Will kissed it away and thought of tomorrow, of fireflies and graves, and let himself sink in slowly.

Hannibal said his name, then said it again. Will took Hannibal's cock in one hand and began to stroke it, and pushed in a little more, slowly, so slowly, until he was fully inside. Hannibal laid his forehead against the thin plastic wall of their cabin. His shoulders trembled and Will could see his parted lips and closed eyes. They stood, barely moving, only jolted by the rocking of the train. Each jolt served to push Will in a little deeper. Hannibal's moan was low and guttural.

He kissed Hannibal's neck, breathing hard. "How does it make you feel?"

Hannibal took a breath. "Possessed. Desired."

Will shook. He wanted to spill all those words onto Hannibal, things he hadn't yet dared say aloud. Desperate protestations of love and need of the kind he'd never said to anyone. Will pulled out and pressed back in with his whole length. It drew a high stricken sound from Hannibal that set Will's nerves alight.

It didn't take long for them both after that, and through the wall came the thumping sound of complaint and a male voice shouting, "Ferme-la!"

They ignored it and leaned together after, breathing hard. Will eased himself out carefully and wrapped his arms around Hannibal's waist. Hannibal's back was uncomfortably damp, but Will couldn't make himself care. 

The tiny basin didn't offer much in the way of washing, but they made do with a damp washcloth. Hannibal climbed into the top bunk afterwards. Will switched off the lights and climbed into the one below. He couldn't see Hannibal, but he could feel his presence, the touch of his mind below the steady rhythm of the train, the link between them more powerful than ever.

"Are you still afraid?" he said.

The answer was a long time coming. "Yes."

"Remember that feeling," Will said softly. "Hold on to it."

"I would rather not. What good will it do me?" 

"It makes you human, Hannibal." He stared up into the darkness. "It makes me want you even more."

Hannibal stayed silent. After a while, as Will was starting to fall asleep, there was a creak of metal and then a light thud on the floor. Will folded back the covers, and Hannibal slid in next to him. Will took him in his arms and they lay together silently. 

The train rattled on. Will yawned. He'd pretty much given up on sleep, and they be in the city in a few hours, anyhow. He began to plan the supplies they'd need - food and fuel at the very least.

"How long do you think we'll stay?" he said. 

"It's hard to say," Hannibal said. He didn't sound tired at all, just thoughtful. "I have no idea what we'll find. There has been no caretaker since Chiyoh left. The place may not even be liveable. But I would like to stay long enough to clear out the cellars."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Emungere for inspiration and beta!


End file.
